


This crown of thorns

by Boudoir_Writer



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ABO stereotypes, Alpha Billy Hargrove, Alpha Steve Harrington, Angst, Billy Hargrove doesn't understand, Bleak, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cock Cages, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom Billy Hargrove, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Bonding, Gags, M/M, Marking, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Happy, Panic, Rope Bondage, Self-Hatred, Sexism, Sort Of, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, no sex - yet, social norms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boudoir_Writer/pseuds/Boudoir_Writer
Summary: He should have known. When he presented alpha and his father finallyfinallylooked at him with something like pride, Steve should have known there would be a catch. There always was. What he couldn’t have known was that the catch would beBilly Hargrove.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	This crown of thorns

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this warped little thing is, it just popped into my head one day and I have to get it out.
> 
> Unbeated. Heed the tags and proceed with caution, this is not happy stuff. More warnings at the end.
> 
> title: NIN, Hurt

“Something on your mind, Princess?”

Steve scratches at the hole in his jeans, doesn’t look up. He knows what he’ll find if he does. He clenches his jaw, shakes his head, keeps his eyes glued to the patch of threadbare carpet between his feet.

“Then stop fidgeting. I’m trying to watch this.”

There’s the clink slosh of Billy taking a sip of his beer, the squeak of leather as he settles back on the battered couch.

A game is on tv. Steve’s not sure what. Steve’s not been paying attention. He hasn’t been paying attention since Billy came back to the one-bedroom shithole they’ve been calling home for the last month, since he caught his scent wafting up the stairs - under the engine grease and gasoline. Just as sharp, just as dangerous.

Steve’s on edge, has been since he woke up with Billy’s claim on his neck. Being on edge makes him clumsy, stupid. That’s why he scratches at the hole in his jeans one more time. Not a moment later Billy’s hand comes down on his thigh like god’s wrath. Fingers digging into tense muscle, palm hot through the threadbare fabric.

Steve goes very  _ very _ still.

“What did I just say?” Billy’s words are quiet, make Steve pay attention. Fucking finally. 

“‘msorry.” It’s a barely intelligible mumble. You’d think he’d be better at apologising by now. Not much else has come out his lips since the whole fuckup at the Hunt, since he got claimed like a helpless  _ omega _ .

Billy’s sighs, a gust of weariness and disappointment. Could as well be a punch in the guts the way Steve sucks in a breath, holds. He chews on his lips. Waits.

Billy’s hand rides up his tight, hot, heavy. Before he can control himself, Steve’s legs fall open, his hips hitch up, hopeful.

Steve knows he’s dumb but fuck, his body is way dumber.

He should have known. When he presented alpha and his father finally finally looked at him with something like pride, Steve should have known there would be a catch. There always was. What he couldn’t have known was that the catch would be  _ Billy Hargrove _ .

Billy tuts and Steve feels his face flush and his dick try to fill up in its cage, stark reminder that there can only be one alpha here, and that alpha ain’t Steve, hasn’t been since he rolled over and let Billy mark him.

Billy’s hand moves away, not the heat of it though. It’s a brand seared into his flesh. Billy turns off the tv and moves to the bedroom with a  _ stay. _

Steve stays.

The length of rope that Billy brings back has become familiar. The ballgag and blindfold too. Doesn’t stop Steve from shifting away on the couch. The front door is not that far: he could make a run for it.

And then  _ what _ ? He’s Billy’s now, good as married, good as  _ owned _ . If he turned up at his parents they’d only drive him back, hissing about what a fucking disgrace he is and  _ what will the neighbors think, Steven! _ If he turned up at an omega shelter they’d laugh in his face. A big, bad alpha that can’t bear what countless omegas put up with since the dawn of time. And it’s not like Billy is abusive. No, Billy is just treating him like he would any other omega. Trouble is Steve is not an omega, never was, never will be.

“Don’t,” he blurts even if he knows he’s only digging himself into a deeper grave. Wonders if he’ll ever get out again. Wonders if he should make good use of that rope one of these days, instead.

“You know what the therapist said. It’s for your own good. Are you gonna be a little bitch about it?” Billy inquires and Steve’s mouth clicks shut, just like that.

Billy hands are on Steve’s neck, rough fingers inexplicably gentle, rubbing spirals on his skin. That’s almost worse. Steve closes his eyes, allows himself to lean into the touch for a second, allows himself some comfort, because he’s weak, before jerking his head away.

“Fuck the therapist. Fuck you,” he mutters because while he can only go down, it doesn’t mean he needs to make it easy for Billy. Or himself.

Billy grins, rueful, digs his thumb at the corner of Steve’s mouth. It chafes, just a taste of what’s to come.

“Oh, sweetheart, you know you just need to ask.”

Steve scoffs and looks away. He wishes Billy would shut up and get on with it. If he’s waiting for Steve to beg for it, well, he’s going to wait until Hell freezes over.

“No?” He shrugs, smiles, good natured, unfazed. Steve wants to punch him, make him bleed. “Open up then.”

The ballgag goes in, strapped tight, immovable like Billy’s belief that Steve will eventually turn into the nice, meek omega he thought he had claimed at the Hunt.

Then there’s the blindfold. Billy checks and rechecks to make sure there is no light filtering through. By the time he’s satisfied with it, Steve has started drooling around the gag, spit wetting his chin, humiliation heating his cheeks, panic making his throat flutter. It’s just the start though.

When Billy moves his arms behind his back, it’s like they’re someone else’s limbs, numb fingers grabbing at elbows. There’s the whisper of the rope, the scratch and the bite of it on skin and flesh. Billy hums as he works. Loop after loop, Steve is ensnared, until he can only sit there sightless, speechless, motionless. Made utterly dependent on Billy. A practical reminder, as if he could ever forget.

They say that omegas need this, that their natural submissive side revels into knowing that they don’t need to worry, don’t need to think about anything - only trust that their alpha will take care of them.

Steve was there when the therapist explained the science of it. No amount of pointing out,  _ respectfully _ , that he’s not an omega could sway her - or Billy. But then no one had ever seen an alpha claimed like a bitch either, at least not in Hawkins.

Steve focuses on breathing, in and out, in and out, panic already closing in on him, saltwater over a drowning man, but then Billy is straddling his thighs, his heat and his scent unescapable. Fingers in his hair, tilting his head up, exposing Steve’s throat, the silver white mark Billy put there. A growl, the wet hot touch of Billy’s mouth, the razor sharp scrape of teeth and soothing wet rasp of tongue, and the tenuous hold Steve has been keeping on himself snaps. He howls into the gag and struggles against the rope, bucks and twists against Billy, against his fucked up instincts, against the unfairness of it all. Most of all against wanting to give in.

It’s all for nothing, of course. All through it Billy is there, holding him down, staking a claim. As if he hadn’t already, when he tackled Steve at the Hunt and bit him. Asshole is probably getting off on this, on Steve’s helpless struggle, on his utter humiliation.

Steve doesn’t know when his rage burns itself out, he doesn’t know when the howling turns to whimpering.

He only knows that by then Billy is holding him up rather than pinning him down, fingers carding through sweat soaked hair, as Steve’s head rests on his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he’s saying, clutching at the nape of his neck, thumb rubbing at the sensitive skin under Steve’s ear. "That's it, let it all out."

After the siege the surrender. It’s a kind of blacking out. When he comes back to himself Steve’s wolf is silent, starved. There’s another piece of him missing, carved out, to make him less Steve, more Billy’s. Billy’s fingers are gentle as they remove the gag the blindfold, rub away at the soreness, at sticky tear tracks. Steve would rather have Billy's fists.

“Better now?” Billy asks, hopeful.

Steve wants to laugh, instead he swallows and swallows, catches Billy’s eyes. The words fall out of his mouth as brittle and as dead as he feels. “Define better,” he rasps.

Billy flinches as if hurt, looks away first. Steve does feel better then.

**Author's Note:**

> Might one day expand on this, maybe a companion piece from Billy's POV. What do you think?
> 
> Warning:  
> did I say extremely dub con? Like it would be outright non-con if Steve hadn't waived his right to say no.  
> to spell it out:  
> Alpha Steve enters an alpha/omega matching Hunt of his own free will, essentially giving blanket consent to bond with an omega, with all the consequences a bond entail. But he ends up bonded to alpha Billy Hargrove instead.  
> Bonded alphas are unheard of in Hawkins, Indiana, so social norms expects them to fall into the traditional roles of alpha/omega, with Steve being the omega as Billy claimed him, proving the strongest alpha.  
> Steve has a hard time adjusting and Billy doesn't know how to help him, beside following outdate norms.  
> So, angst all around folks!


End file.
